


afterthought.

by uncaringerinn



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncaringerinn/pseuds/uncaringerinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is not where she wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	afterthought.

Dust burns the inside of her nose as she slams her sledge into the raider's head. It bursts like an over-ripe melon, splattering her with a grotesque amount of bloody brain tissue. She turns to her right, where Danse has just shot down another raider when her companion's eyes widen. His mouth hangs open with a too-late warning, and she feels the impact of the bullets long before the pain. The adrenaline of the fight lets her finish off her assailant, but it quickly fades as she notices the amount of blood gushing from her left thigh.

Shock sends her crumpling in a heap to the rocky ground. Panic makes her tear through her pack even though she knows she used her last stimpak that morning to heal a crippled dog just outside of Goodneighbor. Theodora can taste, with surprising clarity, something sharp and sinister on the back of her tongue.

_Fear_ , she thinks, _You're scared, Teddy._

Danse presses metal hands against her warm cheeks, hears him telling her to stay calm. Breathe. But she can't, there's too much blood. Danse's voice is loud, but there's a noise underneath that, the sound of ripping fabric. He's making a tourniquet out of one of her spare shirts.

"We're too far from any settlements. I have to use the signal grenades."

"You can't, they won't help me and they'll kill you."

"I'm not debating this." He grabs her pack, pulls out the grenade. She reaches for him, tries to argue, but her arms feel too heavy. Jet black in the corners of her vision begins to bleed into the picture before her.

"Danse, please-"

But the paladin pulls the pin, and thick, orange smoke spills forth, floats into the sky. The last thing she sees is the dull sheen of the dented X-01 power armor disappearing in the glare of the Commonwealth sunset. Beneath the pounding of her heart, she thinks she hears the hum of vertibird blades before the black void steals her consciousness.

\--

When she wakes, she knows she is not where she wants to be.

Ever so slowly, she inches herself up into a seated position. Saliva fills a cotton-dry mouth as the movement sends her empty stomach roiling with nausea. Her leg echoes with a persistent throb that beats in time with the pumping of her heart. Vision swimming, she lifts her head to take in her surroundings. Any discomfort she currently experiences is shoved back and momentarily forgotten as she takes in the sight before her.

Arthur Maxson is sitting in a chair directly across from her cot, elbows perched on his knees, hands clasped together, steely sea-blue eyes staring back into hers.

Theodora swallows thickly, but makes no effort to break the silence. He decides to shatter it in her stead, "General," and his voice is pitched in a low, dark rumble that makes her bones quiver, "Your critical injuries seem to be a rather lucky happenstance for me. I've been meaning to discuss some important matters with you."

"I think," and Christ, her voice sounds like it's being ripped from her throat, stings when she speaks, "Circumstances considering, now may not be the best time for such an important conversation."

The Elder stands slowly, steps to the edge of her cot, "I doubt that I will have an opportunity such as this one anytime in the near future. So, we _will_ be having this conversation now." His tone grows firm and insistent towards the end, almost dangerous.

Her heart beats harder and her leg throbs in kind. She sighs in resignation, "What would you like to discuss?"

"You are familiar with the Brotherhood patrols?"

It's not an actual question, he knows that she is, "Yes, of course."

"Then perhaps you are aware that a rather startling number of our patrols have been ambushed and subsequently destroyed and looted." While he speaks he picks up the chair he was seated in and moves it by her bedside, before sitting once more. Theodora tries, unsuccessfully, to disregard the chill that slides through her veins when she realizes he has picked her injured side.

"No, I wasn't aware."

"I suppose it is merely an odd coincidence then that a large amount of the bodies show severe trauma, inflicted by a blunt, heavy object."

She opens her mouth to speak, but Maxson cuts her off, "It must also be a coincidence that several of the bodies display burns remarkably similar to those caused by energy weapons. More specifically, the laser rifles the General of the Minutemen is known to provide for her various traveling companions."

Anger causes her cheeks to flush a brilliant red and she leans forward. The action sends a painful ache jolting through her wounded leg. She ignores it, "I hope you are not insinuating that I have anything to do with these murders, Elder." She tried to sound calmer, but her short, clipped tone betrays her irritation.

A sickening feeling curls low in her belly as Maxson places a warm, but not gentle hand on the meat of her thigh, just below the stark-white bandages covering her bullet wounds, "Insinuate? No. Let me put it more bluntly: I believe you killed my soldiers."

"We had a deal, Arthur. You leave us alone, we leave you alone. We had no reason to attack those patrols."

"Except your disdain for the Brotherhood, for _me_ , isn't a secret. It has become common knowledge that you and your subordinates are becoming increasingly frustrated with the Brotherhood's prolonged presence in the Commonwealth."

"The Minutemen had nothing to do with it. _I_ had nothing to do with it."

The hand not occupied with her thigh comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "I do not believe that the Minutemen took any part in these horrendous actions," he admits. "What I do believe is that you, Theodora, acted independently. With the aid of one of your _friends_ , of course."

"I am not the only asshole out there that uses a sledgehammer," she says indelicately, "and neither are my companions the only ones who have access to laser rifles. You may be already aware of that, though, considering your own fucking men use them."

A pregnant pause follows her statement and green-brown eyes watch warily as Maxson traces the tip one finger along the edge of the fresh bandage. It soothes her, but it's wrong. Like the calm before the storm.

And suddenly, his thumb is pressing into one of the wounds hidden beneath the bandages. She inhales sharply, hissing through clenched teeth. Pain shoots violently up her leg, burns all the way down to the bone. Scrabbling to remove the pressure, her fingers scratch desperately at the flesh of his hand. It does nothing.

"Tell me the truth, Theodora."

Her skin quickly turns clammy, sweat gathering at her temples and soaking the edges of her hair, "Let go of me."

His free hand tangles in the fabric of her dirty shirt, pulls her closer. He digs the nail of his thumb deeper into wound, feels the stitches burst and the bandages begin to seep red. Arthur leans over her, so close their noses almost touch, "Tell me."

One ineffective hand swings up, twines in soft, dark brown hair and yanks with strength she can barely muster. In turn, the effort is rewarded with more pressure and a slow, cruel twist of the nail still gouged into her thigh. Whatever pitifully small amount of energy her short recovery has stored is wasted on the feeble attempt to free herself. Arms falling to her sides, she remains suspended where he still grips the front of her shirt.

"I am telling you the truth, Arthur," her voice breaks, almost pleading as tears leak from the corners of wild, hazel eyes, "I have no reason to lie."

She slumps back against the cot when he releases her; chest heaving, body fiercely aching. There's blood on his hand, where the bandages soaked through, and he smears it across the line of her jaw as he cups her chin.

Arthur presses his lips to one sweat-slicked temple and murmurs, "We aren't done yet, Teddy." And it's so quiet, so gentle, that she barely hears the words at all. The Elder turns and leaves, the sound of the closing door is deafening in the sudden silence of the recovery room.

Waiting, she listens as his heavy footsteps gradually fade down the corridor before disappearing altogether. When she is absolutely sure that she is completely and totally alone, Theodora hauls herself to the edge of her cot and vomits.

**Author's Note:**

> so, i'm rewriting the underdog series, and once that is finished, this work will be included with it.  
> but be prepared cause the rewrite is gonna be completely different, and better. hopefully.  
> anyway, let me know what you think, or don't. it's up to you.


End file.
